


Home

by yourmothersmeatloaf



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M, Fluff, mostly just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7123513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourmothersmeatloaf/pseuds/yourmothersmeatloaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is just going home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

He had never been happier to feel solid ground again. His head felt swollen, but the ground under his sneakers seemed to be a good antidote. His first time on a plane would most definitely be the last. This, nevertheless, was a good thing. He already felt he didn’t want to leave his new location.

He underwent the long process of collecting his baggage then slowly and groggily left the airport and hailed a cab. He could feel his lungs attempt to shrink away from the stench of cigarettes he was reluctantly sucking in on every breath. It was a long and quiet ride, which he was grateful for. His brain was pressing against the inside of his skull.

He couldn’t help letting his mind wander as his eyes skipped over vast, clear fields going out for ages. He pictured what awaited him when he arrived. Home. A lovely, lovely place. A place he always wanted to be. He couldn’t help the vast smile that stretched across his face. It stung a tad as he hadn’t moved much in hours.

His eyes continued skipping over the scenery, seeing horses contained by a fence, grazing near a small, man-made pond.

‘Aye, lad. Time for you to go.’

His eyes slipped open from a rest he wasn’t aware of and glanced around his surroundings.

‘Oh.’ He stepped out and realized the rather beefy driver with the ever burning cigarette protruding from his moustache had already grabbed his bags from the trunk. He slipped the man a rather generous tip, and his drowsy state wasn’t entirely blameless in the affair.

‘I wouldn’t fiddle about too much, this path seems like it’d look better from behind a locked door.’ The cabbie said as he got back into his car. He looked up to his new abode. Weeds growing through cracked cement led up to wobbly looking steps. He climbed them, avoiding stepping on the slugs hanging around in the light. Did slugs enjoy the humid air? He didn’t know much about slugs. Disregarding that, he smiled at the door with the peeling paint.

He hit the door three loud times and waited. He took no notice of the yelling from down the street, he didn’t notice that the cabbie was awaiting the answer at the door, too. Soon though, the door swung open. Immediately, there were arms surrounding him and keeping him there.

They met, she moved. Only for a few weeks. Then weeks turned into months then months into years. They always planned to see each other again. Years turned to months, months into weeks, weeks into days, days into hours, hours into seconds, then to right now. This moment they could finally share once again.

‘Welcome home, Thomas.’

‘Thanks, Brenda.’

He closed the door with the peeling paint behind him as he was finally, finally, home.


End file.
